FRIENDS & COLLEAGUES
by susieq666
Summary: Sequel to Episode 324. Not an actioner, just an exploration of Horatio and his friendship with Eric.


FRIENDS & COLLEAGUES

Horatio slowly turned his back as the plane's engine-note roared into take-off mode. He listened, but didn't watch, as the plane took to the skies, carrying away his brother, his nephew and his beloved Yelina. He knew what he'd done had probably saved their lives. He also knew that the chances of seeing any of them again were by no means certain. But, worse, was the way Yelina had looked at him as she realised he wasn't going with them. She had recovered quickly, but for a moment, a fleeting painful moment, he understood exactly how they felt about each other.

He could feel tears pricking his eyelids beneath his shades, as he walked slowly back to the Hummer. The day played and replayed in his brain. It had been a bad one, by anyone's standards. Apart from the business with his brother, he had also had a PD officer commit suicide in his lab. He hadn't been there, but he had seen the aftermath. Then he'd been forced to defuse a bomb. Successfully, more by luck than judgement. There were only minutes to detonation, so he had to try, although he was years away from his bomb squad days.

He reached the Hummer, unlocked it and got into the driving seat. He realised he was shaking, as everything suddenly, and unusually, caught up with him. It was ridiculous - he'd seen worse sights, taken greater risks… It wasn't that things didn't affect him, but he knew how to handle them, or he'd never manage to do his job. Yet he was still shaking; he could feel his heart beating, and slight but creeping nausea. He wondered briefly if he was coming down with some illness, but instinctively knew it was psychological.

Well, work would chase the jitters away… He started the car, and headed towards the lab, trying to concentrate on anything other than the plane heading for Brazil. After about five minutes, he pulled over and called Eric.

"H?"

"Anything happening, Eric?"

"Nothing new, but… Calleigh…"

"I hope she's gone home."

"Yes, but there's something you should know."

"Hit me."

"She's resigned from firearms. Says she can't do it anymore. I'm not sure whether she means the whole job."

"She's in shock." Horatio hesitated. "Eric, give her a bit of space… and, do something for me?"

"Anything."

"Oversee the cleaning of the firearms lab. Not a trace of what happened, you understand?"

"Of course. Where will you be?"

"I'm not coming back in today."

"Oh… OK…" Eric sounded surprised.

"I'm going home. Sorry, Eric, but I'm shattered."

"Are you OK?"

"Not sure. But call if you need me."

Feeling unaccountably guilty, he drove home. He felt strange, and restless. He didn't want to eat, or read, or listen to music. And he wasn't that tired, despite what he'd said to Eric. He took off his suit, put on jeans and sweatshirt, and took both his guns into the kitchen to clean. He was meticulous about it, but it was also something to occupy him. It kept his hands busy, but not his brain. He was too used to handling guns to need to think about it. He knew he hadn't felt like this in years. Even the traumas in his life, like the loss of a colleague in a shooting, had caused immense grief, but no perceptible psychological damage. In fact, if psych strength could be measured, he knew he'd excel. He was tough, and brave. Not hard, he hoped, but able to deal with anything. Able to walk into danger, knowing every step could be his last, with his gun rock-steady in his hands. He spread his hands in front of him. He wasn't actually shaking now, which pleased him; he just felt it. Still, it had been a ridiculously hard day. He almost hated Hagen for blowing his brains out, on this day, in his lab. Yet he knew Hagen was a good man, mentally scarred by circumstances.

He wondered if he himself had made things worse. He had kept Hagen out of the loop and the man felt he wasn't trusted. He suspected his failure to trust people was one of his faults. He'd convince himself that he'd keep information to himself to protect others. He'd always thought of it as a strength, but perhaps it wasn't. But there were so few he could trust. Even Yelina. He hadn't told her when he suspected that her husband, his brother, was still alive. Why? To keep her safe? Or because he was afraid she'd say something to her son? Almost everyone had other loyalties, other agendas. He sighed, reassembled his guns, loaded them, and put them in his bedside drawer. It was against the rules. They should be locked away, but he liked them near when he slept. He had no illusions that he was a major target for criminals, and it would, he felt, be stupid to get shot in your own bed because of a bureaucratic rule.

He made a cup of coffee, put on some music, and sat down with a book. It didn't help his mood, which he could only label as over-emotional. Maybe he should have gone back to work. He couldn't concentrate on the book, and the music seemed to play on his heightened sensitivities.

At the lab, Eric had a sense of everything being wrong. Calleigh, shocked by Hagen's death, had gone home. H had gone home early, which was unheard of. Now, meeting Frank, he heard that Yelina Salis had 'disappeared'. Still, H had given him a job to do, and he intended to do it properly. He stood over the clean-up team, until all signs of Hagen's suicide were gone. It had included walls and ceiling, and he had himself checked every item and surface for stray spatter. Hagen's gun, badge and ID he gave a case number to, and logged into evidence. He wasn't sure it was the right place, but it got them out of the way, out of Calleigh's way. If she came back in, that was. He was tempted to go and see her, but Horatio had said 'give her space', and his boss was nothing if not a good judge of character.

And that started him thinking about H. They were close, as close as boss and co-worker could be. Almost brothers. Not that Eric would ever presume on that closeness. He respected and loved Horatio, but he always held that slight distance between them important. He would trust H with his life and he hoped his boss felt the same. And never, in all their years together, had Eric heard him say 'I'm going home. I'm shattered'. He had seen H pull a double shift, lead a dangerous operation, keep going when he must be running on nothing but adrenaline, and never, ever, admit to physical weakness. Something was definitely wrong. Perhaps the man was unwell. Although, Eric mused, he had seen him work when others might have gone sick. He had the sort of concentration and force of will to take minor ailments or discomforts in his stride. Anyway, he hadn't seemed ill. The man who earlier had calmly defused a bomb with no notice and little preparation had seemed as unmoved and rock steady as always.

Later he had said, 'I've got to go out for a bit. I'll be on my cell.' Nothing unusual, and Eric had thought no more of it. Until he'd called. It was an odd call. H did not, after all, have to explain himself, and rarely did. He could have said 'I've been held up' not 'I'm going home'. Then Eric wouldn't be sitting around brooding.

He went to tidy up some odds and ends, by which time the night shift was arriving, so he checked out and went to his car. On an impulse, he headed for Horatio's apartment. It was a risk. Brothers under the skin, maybe, but H did not socialise and did not invite people home. Even Eric. He reckoned there was at least a fifty percent chance of a very frosty reception. He almost changed his mind, then decided he was being stupid. It wasn't as if he was wooing a new girlfriend. This was his friend of over ten years… and Eric was concerned. He could easily back off, didn't even need to go in… He called in at a Thai restaurant, bought some take-out, and drove to the apartment.

He parked, locked his hardware away, and looked up at the top floor. The lights were on. He wished there was more security on the building, for he could walk straight in, at least to the door of the apartment. There, at least, security was in place. No spy hole, but, he suspected, a discreetly hidden camera. He buzzed before he lost his nerve.

It actually made Horatio jump - he had so few visitors. He went to the microphone.

"Yes?"

"It's Eric."

The voice was clearly identifiable, but he checked the CCTV just in case, then went to the door and unlocked it. He could see Eric was nervous.

"I… don't need to stay. Just… I don't know…"

"Spit it out, Eric."

"I was worried. You sounded odd. Are you OK?"

Horatio's smile was one of gentle amusement. "I'm OK. But thank you for your concern."

"I'll go then."

"Is that food?"

"Thai curry. Enough for two."

"Smells good. You'd better come in."

"If you're sure."

"Eric, if I wasn't, I wouldn't say it." He led the way to the kitchen, and took two plates from the cupboard, then leant on the counter, watching Eric put out the food. "Are you nervous?" he asked at last. "Not of me…"

"Of invading your space…" He met his boss's eyes and was glad to see only warmth in them. "I've never been here. Never even seen you dressed like that."

Horatio raised tawny eyebrows. "Nothing to see. It's just where I sleep." He chuckled. "C'mon. Let's eat."

They ate more or less in silence. Eric still felt awkward, but relieved that H seemed nothing more than amused.

"That was good." H put the plate aside. "I probably needed that. Haven't eaten all day." He fixed his penetrating blue eyes on Eric. "So what really brought you here?"

"I was worried."

"Why?"

"You sounded… odd. And Frank said Yelina had gone."

"You thought I'd run off with her?"

"No! I thought you were in trouble."

"And if I was, wouldn't I tell you?"

"I don't know, H. Would you?"

Horatio hesitated. "I trust you, Eric. You're probably the only one. So yes, I would."

"You _can_ trust me."

"So nothing we say now goes outside this room. Understand?"

"Yes, boss."

"'Boss'! Not here… We're friends."

Eric smiled, relaxing a little. It was easy to accept him as a friend, like this, looking younger, softer somehow, in blue jeans and sweatshirt.

"I am OK, you know," Horatio said gently. "But I'll tell you what's happening if it'll put your mind at rest. In the strictest confidence…"

"Of course."

He explained, without detail, about his brother being alive and about the need for him and his family to 'disappear'. "They should be in Brazil by now." He stopped speaking.

Eric dearly wanted to ask him about his feelings for Yelina, but his nerve failed him. Instead, he said, "It's upset you."

"That I got them on the plane, no. That I may not see them again, yes." He spread his hands as if to see if they were steady. "And, what with Hagen, and that bomb…" He hesitated. "I got the shakes, Eric. It's not happened to me for years."

"It's not surprising, H."

"It was to me," he protested. "But," he inspected his hands again, "it seems to have gone."

"You've had the most horrible day anyone could dream up. Everyone gets a bit shaken from time to time. As long as you're all right."

"I am, as long as no one hears about it."

"They won't hear it from me." Eric chuckled suddenly. "Stetler's talking about everyone seeing the shrink because of Hagen."

"Stetler can go screw himself," H said, uncharacteristically crude. "Though I wish Hagen had chosen somewhere else to do it. I felt for the guy, but he never got over what happened with Ray… And I didn't help him much."

"Don't start blaming yourself, H. The man had been damaged… too much…"

"True. That's why I couldn't tell him things. And he adored Calleigh, and she, bless her, didn't feel the same."

"Do you know about all our love lives?"

"Pretty much… I know my team. It's part of my job."

"I'm sure it's not in the job description."

"Not in those words, no." He seemed keen to change the subject. "Want a drink? Not that there's much alcohol here."

"Do you drink at all?"

"Not anymore. I could find you a whiskey and coke…?"

"OK. Light on the whiskey. I'm driving."

Horatio got up, went to the kitchen and came back with two glasses, his own almost certainly just coke. "I used to drink," he said, as he sat down. "The NYPD had a real drinking culture… Every evening…"

"Doesn't sound like you."

"Oh, it was then. I was a young guy, very young to be a detective - I was keen to be accepted."

"What happened?"

"I got careless. I had been drinking, though I certainly wasn't drunk. I got stabbed, badly. In hospital for a while."

"I'd heard."

"I gave up drinking. And I moved to the bomb squad. Believe me, you can't defuse a bomb with alcohol inside you." He grinned suddenly. "Anything else you want to know about me?"

"I'm sorry, I wasn't prying. Well, I didn't mean to." Actually, there were lots of things he'd like to have asked, but he didn't dare. Just because H was relaxed, with his guard, if not down, at least lower than usual, didn't mean he would go into deeply personal territory. Eric sipped the drink, enjoying the warm kick of the whiskey. Then he said, "There is one thing I've always wanted to ask you. Are you ever afraid?"

"For myself, no."

"I don't know how you do that."

"If you ever want to lead a team, Eric, you'll learn it. If I felt fear, how could I take the rest of you into danger? Anyway, I think fear… disables you. Makes you less effective."

"Easier said than done."

"I didn't say it was easy," H retorted mildly. "I think I learned it on the bomb squad. Get anything wrong, and you're gone. But it's likely to be quick, so no point fearing it. That's what did it for me, anyway. Then again, I don't have a wife and kids to worry about, so it's easier."

They talked until nearly midnight. As Horatio showed him out, he said quietly, "Thank you, Eric."

"What for?"

"For caring about me. And for making me feel better. See you tomorrow, bright and early."

"Bright and early, H."

Eric drove home with a feeling of lightness and pleasure he had hardly anticipated. He felt honoured that he'd not only been trusted, but been given a rare insight into his beloved but enigmatic boss. He hoped H didn't regret it, and vowed not to let their working relationship change. It wouldn't be difficult. H, on duty, in what was almost a uniform of dark suit and shirt, and shades, was definitely forbidding. Nothing about him encouraged familiarity unless he chose it. While all his team were aware of his gentle, compassionate side, it was something he could, and did, keep well hidden.

Eric knew he would treasure the glimpse he'd just had of the off duty Horatio. He wished it could become a regular thing, but somehow knew it wouldn't. Knew he wouldn't even tell anyone he'd been there. Eric sighed, and drove home.


End file.
